Why Busty Actresses Always Die First in Monster Movies

I know a young movie actress. She has startling, beautiful green eyes, a great body and film credits. This young mother of three, happily married, has worked before and behind the camera for years.

But, when she is in front of the camera, her film time is short. That is because she works exclusively in the SciFi/Horror genre. Her specialty? To be killed by the monster.

She is the classic initial victim. She screams, gets mauled, and dies. Her Hollywood profile page lists her thusly: SciFi/Horror,Breasts, Butt.

Which brings us to the question every male has asked since the 1930s.

Why does the girl with the great boobs die first?

And have you noticed that the blond victims have decidedly different personalities than the brunette, buxom beauties about to die? The blonds can barely do their nails. The brunettes are a bit devious.

Both deserve to die of course--except that every male in the theatre is praying for the vicious beast to instead kill the scrawny dishwater blond with the great butt, a graduate degree of some sort, who turns out to be the heroine. You can hear the whispered, barely-audible male voices: "why her?", "I knew it", and 'I need something to eat" murmur through the post-gurgling-death scream silence.

Theories abound among the cognizant. The busty girls run slower. They cannot fit through the inconveniently-sized escape passages. Sure, they can swim on the surface, but they are poor divers.

The built ones seem more willing to strip down at the wrong time and place. They are randy.They whine too much. Big-boobed girls are more prone to falling down, and the slim girls make their getaway. They hang with the wrong crowd. They shower too much and leave the doors unlocked.

Even the conspiratorial: She rocks so much, the producer could not afford another minute.

These are explanations the screen writer has forced upon you. We all know the real reason that the buxom die young--and early in the flick: Your date wants her dead.

Never mind that she would show up the B-cupped heroine whose brains are disproportionate to her bra size and who happens to be able to run, swim, and crawl through small openings, with less whining.